


Stomach it

by hopefever



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Divorce, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unsafe Sex, attempted rebound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefever/pseuds/hopefever
Summary: Their divorce papers went through a week ago and Jack isn't coping. Neither is Gabriel.Reinhardt unfortunately gets caught in the crossfire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> posting and will edit properly tomorrow, shit properly goes down in the final chapter and it was written as an rp between me and my boyfriend. I was going to try and edit it the final chapter into one fluid piece but it would lose a lot of the emotions that are running internally on both sides so each alternating part is a flip between jack and gabriel's perspective.

It was rare for Reinhardt to be stationed in Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. As a smaller base he didn’t tend to have much business there as opposed to the other bases, especially with the current state of the organisation. Beginning seeds of rumours about Overwatch operations had begun to spread and activities within this particular base had largely been put on a temporary halt. Despite his lack of familiarity with the States, the rocky mountains of Colorado did have a small amount of semblance to the places he had come to call home. 

Compared to the other bases he was used to lodging at it was jarringly quiet. A situation the older man had become unused to and had him itching for some sort of commotion or company. 

His wishes were answered in the form of a smash from a room nearby. The kitchen, apparently, he really didn’t have the layout of the base down and only vaguely knew where he was from wondering around. 

It was a surprise to him to find that the source of the noise had been the Strike Commander, he’d expected it to be a new recruit or one of the youngsters of the organisation, but it was not an unpleasant surprise to see a familiar face. It was quite welcomed in fact. 

“Jack my friend! It’s nice to see you outside of that stuffy office of yours! Finally taking a break I see”

Reinhardt didn’t miss the flinch as Jack clearly hadn’t noticed the larger man’s presence in the room until he’d announced himself. He also didn’t miss Jack’s hasty motions as he hid something behind his back, shoving it into his back pocket. It looked like papers but Jack was too quick for him to really be able to tell. It wasn’t his place to pry.

“Reinhardt- hi” Jack greeted with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes. The bags beneath them had been becoming more pronounced over the last few years, the evidence of the stress of running such a large scale organisation apparent and he was visibly aging to the point where he was starting to go grey in his early forties. Jack always insisted he was fine, that it was his job. That never stopped his friends from worrying. 

“What happened in here? Do you need any help clearing up?” He asked, gesturing towards the broken glass scattering the floor. Jack paused, as if he’d only just noticed the hazardous mess. 

“No I can deal with it, it’s my mess”

“No! No I must insist!” Reinhardt said, already making for the dustpan and brush and bending down, glad to have something to do. Jack appeared to shuffle around him awkwardly while watching him for a while before speaking up again.

“Well then I can at least make you a drink, want anything?”

“A coffee would be much appreciated, thank you Commander”

Jack’s movements were slow, hesitant and it took him longer than it should to realise the sugar was right in front of him after he’d clicked the kettle on and rooted around for a mug. Reinhardt could only look on with concern, this was very unlike Jack.

“If you don’t mind me asking… is everything ok? I assumed the smashed glass was an accident but with the state of things at the momen-“

“Everything’s fine.” Jack interjected bluntly. 

“Are you sure? You’re looking rather pale, you need to make sure you are still taking care of yourself even in these uncertain times.”

“I said I’m fine Reinhardt”

“And you’re still making sure to eat and shower even when chained to your desk-“

“I am, just drop it” Jack snapped with a tone of finality. 

He was doubtful, it was rare to see the Commander this frantic and as his friend Reinhardt was determined to comfort him in a time of distress even if he didn’t want to talk about it. Jack had always been the type to let himself struggle alone. Although he got the sense that pushing him was having the opposite effect.

“Well if you insist, but as your friend I am always here if you need to talk.” He assured. When Jack didn’t respond he decided it was best to change the topic of conversation. “So what brings you to Colorado? It’s rare for you to be outside HQ let alone in a base like this. I can’t imagine there’s any urgent business here.”

“Just a few errands to run” Jack replied, “…It’s also a nice change of pace”

“I can agree on that one, hahah” he commented. “I’ve never known a base with so little chaos, I almost miss it!”

Jack smirked at that, stirring the coffee once the kettle was boiled, milk and sugar added the way he knew Reinhardt likes it before handing it to him. “I guess, I keep half expecting Lena to come crashing in any second or to hear McCree shouting down the hallways.”

“Stirring up mischief with Pharah no doubt!”

“They’re a bad influence on that girl” Jack said fondly as he settled down next to Reinhardt. 

Their conversation ensued and Jack seemed to loosen up a lot more, to the others relief. Maybe he’d been a little too hasty to jump to conclusions about Jack’s well being.

“She’s been begging me to put her out on the field, turns up at my door every day without fail. She even accidentally called me ‘dad’ once” Jack chuckled fondly, Reinhardt joining him as he recalled their new recruit’s antics.

“Lena must see you as that sort of figure Jack! From what I’ve seen she’s been training hard, maybe it’s about time you gave her a shot”

“I’m impressed with the progress she’s made but she’s not ready yet, she needs more time.”

“More like you’re too scared of taking the risk”

“Can you blame me? She’s young, too many people have been lost out there and she’s not yet completely stable. She’s been working closely with Winston, they’ll get there but I’m not risking losing her for months at a time again.”

Reinhardt hummed in agreement, Jack really was more of a father figure than the man would ever admit.

“Maybe you should have Gabriel train with her, that’ll toughen her up in no time for sure!”

The rate in which Jack’s smile wiped off his face was alarming. Jack bristled and Reinhardt immediately backpedalled.

“Ah, I’m very sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned Gabriel! What with the media attention Blackwatch has been getting recently I’m sure it’s a sore subject.” He blurted out trying to patch up his slip of the tongue. “But we can trust Gabriel, he is the best at what he does there is no doubt he will keep things under control.”

Jack said nothing as he abruptly stood and went to refill his mug. The contents downed a little too quickly. His jaw was clenched as he went to refill it again. 

“I really am terribly sorry Commande-“

“Its fine, I’m not mad.” Jack muttered in response, the frantic look in his eye remained however, telling Reinhardt otherwise.

“Truly Jack you are doing a great job holding up against the public pressure and after the incident in Japan media attention has been unbelievably harsh.” He sighed. “I suppose I am a little sceptical of Gabriel’s decision to keep operations active in light of recent events but it is his decision and he’s always pulled through.”

Babbling out reassurances, Wilhelm stood reaching a hand out to Jack in regret at running his mouth without thinking. The hand on his shoulder had been intended as a consolation gesture, turning Jack’s attention towards him to show that he meant it but for the first time Reinhardt’s attention was drawn to the mug in which Jack had been pouring himself drinks and the very obvious hipflask that rested next to it. 

Distracted and apologies still trailing off he was cut off by a sudden and unexpected press of lips against his own. Foolishly missing the expression on Jack’s face when he was turned to face him in such close proximity.

Any traces of thought were wiped momentarily and Reinhardt could only freeze in confusion. It took a while to register what was actually going on connecting to the preceding events, his lack of reaction giving Jack time to brush his fingers against his jaw, through facial hair in an attempt to pull him closer, breath hot against his skin.

When his mind finally came back into himself Reinhardt pulled back hard. Jack opened his eyes and looked on in confusion. As if he was the one that should be confused.

“W-What are you doing Commander?”

Finally taking in Jack’s appearance properly he noticed the way his eyes were focusing and un-focusing and the slight sway in his stance, coupled with the fact that up close he could smell the reek of alcohol on his breath. Clearly drunk but it had been undetectable without looking at the man closely. Appearing sober was something Jack had mastered quite well, so well in fact that the fact that Jack slipping booze into his coffee mug had completely slipped passed Reinhardt’s radar. 

Jack huffed in frustration, “Shut up, just kiss me.” He muttered and pressed in further. 

There was no hesitation this time when Reinhardt pushed him back and held his shoulder firmly to keep him that way. Jack struggled against the hold but he did not relent. Not even entertaining the idea of humouring him. 

“You’ve been drinking, Jack you are drunk and not thinking straight.” 

For some reason that made Jack scoff “Barely, I know what I’m doing. I want you.”

Reinhardt didn’t listen. “My friend if you were struggling you could’ve spoken to me or any of us, you are not coping well. We are all here to help you with the workload, Ana can answer to the media and the public just as well as-“

“Shut UP, it’s not that.”

Once again Reinhardt sat back in confusion. He’d just assumed it had been the stress of the organisation causing his strange mood and struggled to guess what else it could be. Thinking back he remembered the way Jack had reacted at the mention of Gabriel and mentally slapped himself. He’d been so incredibly foolish.

It was none of their business to pry into their relationship but their divorce had become public knowledge amongst those who were actually close enough to know the nature of their relationship. The tension that had been building between them was noticeable even in their work, the shouting matches and general bitterness were hardly subtle. As hard as it had been for the pair of them it was also painful for their close friends to witness the deterioration of the relationship between two people who had been so incredibly close and in sync with each other. No attempts at intervening or helping them patch up small and petty disputes could stop the train that had already been set in motion.

Of course Jack’s mental state would be precarious, he supposed he should’ve seen the signs that Jack was not coping with it at all well earlier despite his expert attempts at covering it up. He almost resented Jack for doing it so successfully and letting it get to this point. 

While his thoughts ran Jack had managed to discard the hand on his shoulder and was pressing hard kisses against his neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin, hands roaming over his clothed torso. It made Reinhardt flinch, an odd sensation having a good friend’s tongue tasting his skin.

God he was so out of his depth here he had no idea how to treat a situation like this. 

The roaming hand began to travel lower and Wilhelm’s warning calls of his name didn’t seem to reach Jack’s ears. When the path reached his navel he was once again spurred into action, stepping back abruptly and pushing Jack’s hands off of him. He could not let this situation progress any further. Jack was not in his right mind and no matter how flattered he was, he wouldn’t let Jack vent out his feelings with sex or whatever this was leading to.

“That’s enough Jack.” He snapped with finality. 

“I don’t see what the problem is. What you’ve never thought about this before is th-“

“When did your divorce papers go through?”

That shut Jack up, his expression sobered somewhat and he looked away, expression guilt stricken as his hand came to rest on his back pocket. Ah, he should’ve known. Cursed himself for being so slow to pick it up.

It took a while before Jack finally muttered “…it’s not relevant.”  
“This is not the solution Jack, or a healthy way to cope. I hate to see you like this, we can talk about it if that will be beneficial to you or Ana will be more than happy to, your friends are always here to support you we all love you. Or I’m sure counselling will be-“

“No,” Jack said frantically, now backing away and closing in on himself where before he was just trying to press closer. Just like his own armour in battle, Jack’s shield was put up shutting him out, inpentetrable. “I told you I’m fine, I-I don’t need- just forget that anything just happened.”

His stance was like that of a cornered animal, preparing to flee with a look of realisation of his mistake and panic in his eyes. Reinhardt wanted to reach out to him but feared doing so would only make the situation worse. 

“I can’t simply disregard this Jack, I want to help you, and you are not alone in this. Gabriel wouldn’t wan-“

“I have to go. I can’t be here…” the alarm and quiver in his voice made Reinhardt’s heart sink. 

“Jack wait!” he called after him as Jack fled from the room.

It wasn’t a good idea to let Jack be alone with his thoughts right now but he worried following him would make Jack think he was accepting his advances or that forcing him would only make him recoil into himself more. He didn’t understand why Jack wouldn’t accept his friends help and just prolong his own pain even further. From what he knew Jack didn’t have much family to fall back on, Overwatch was his family as Jack had said once before. It had warmed his own heart at the time and, as family, Jack should know they will always be there as his support system. They loved him after all.

He sighed, If only he would let them.

With a heavy heart he slumped back into his chair, head in hands as he tried to collect his thoughts and think of the best course of action in helping his troubled friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Grand Mesa was primarily a military base for peacekeeping but it also functioned as a site for pioneering technology and arms so thus Genji, being a walking weapon, was occasionally here for minor updates or ability appraisals. Dr. Ziegler oversaw maintenance and major augmentations but was begrudging in assessing his combat potential.  
Which was stupid, in Gabriel's humble opinion; you transmute a man into a killing machine and then refuse to watch him train his body to kill?

Ah. But raising questions did nothing but earn him a lecture from the UN (which he didn't care about) and make yet another problem for Jack (which he did). Foolishly. He was a fucking fool.

Genji was an important, unique commodity and so Gabriel was here in her stead. The Blackwatch commander's duties had been considerably curtailed since the incident in Japan and so active involvement was difficult but the UN hadn't factored in two crucial details.

Gabriel was strategic, planned carefully, and his division was loyal.

Blackwatch remained clandestinely active, trusted members pulling strings where they could.

It was a smaller base, quieter. He knew the Blackwatch personnel here and when he heard the footsteps approaching from the hallway - SEP senses combined with the heaviness of gait - he knew it wasn't one of his men. In fact, Gabriel knew who it was before Reinhardt even knocked.

Three hard raps on his office door.

"Come in," he called, finishing the email he was typing and sending it with a similar three decisive taps.

The massive man shuffled in, unusually quiet, and as he shut the door Gabriel said, "This is unexpected. What's the occasion?"

"Ah- Ahh! Good evening, Commander!"

The greeting was a poor mimicry of his somewhat usual irritating gusto and Gabriel would ordinarily be thankful for it had it not signified an upset. Reinhardt was a tough man to knock off kilter.

"Evening," Gabriel replied. "You caught me just in time."

Translating to: don’t take too long. Peculiarity of the behaviour be damned, he wasn't in the mood.

"Go ahead, take a seat."

Reinhardt sat opposite him, looking gigantesque in the chair. It was further caricatured by the way he was twiddling his thumbs.

"So," Gabriel began, leaning back. "What can I do for you?"

"It's, um-" Reinhardt began, looking uneasy. He paused.

"Ah, how to put this."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes an imperceptible amount. There was none of his pointless verbosity, like he was struggling to voice the issue as opposed to skirting it.

"It's about Jack. Oh! Commander Morrison," he added, as if Gabriel wasn't intimately familiar with who that was.

"I know Commander Morrison," he said drily, as if the specific topic brought to him by the specific person hadn't immediately planted a seed of dread.

"Yes, it's-"

Reinhardt kept stopping and starting. Gabriel blinked and made an expectant, encouraging gesture with his hand.

"I do not believe that he is well at all. As his friend and comrade, I am very concerned."

The irritation spiked, the anxiety twofold. Gabriel sat back, closed his eyes, and inhaled through his nostrils.

"Look, if this isn't a professional matter then I can't-"

"No! You must listen!"

He opened his eyes.

Reinhardt had his hands on his knees, an imploring expression on his face.

"He wasn't himself at all! And he-"

He lowered his voice; presumably not because of the potential of overhearing but because of the distress he obviously felt pertaining to the matter. Perhaps some of that was showing on Gabriel's face too, in trepidation.

"He'd been drinking at his desk," Reinhardt said.

Gabriel had known about the alcoholism for years, helpless to do anything but watch as the problem progressed despite how many times he'd attempted to intervene. It had been the subject of a few, very private, shouting matches.

It scared the shit out of him. But, again, it wasn't something open to discussion with-

"And he tried to, ah, how do you say? Come onto me. For sex."

The information failed to immediately register and Gabriel stalled. Stared at Reinhardt. Thought he'd heard wrong. Hoped he'd heard wrong.

"...Excuse me?"  
Reinhardt swallowed. He looked uncomfortable but more than that, earnestly concerned.

"He kissed me. He went to touch me but I respectfully declined, being-"

He could kick Jack. The first thing that came to mind was that this was not he sort of scandal they needed and he highlighted that only because further damage to his reputation would affect his already threadbare mental health.  
More so Gabriel was fraught about what this said about it.

He knew he'd sworn to himself he'd refuse to subscribe to watching Jack Morrison rip himself to pieces, to be concomitantly torn to bits. But here he was, his fingers closing into tight fists where they rested atop his desk, brain buzzing.

It was selfish that the second was an estimate that this were a malicious attack on him. He dismissed it as best he could but the suggestion still sat in a recess in Gabriel's mind that this was a stab at a reaction.

In lieu returned the predominant panic; his ex-husband's well being.

It'd been a week. A fucking week since the divorce had come through.

He'd been looking Reinhardt in the eye and so he'd continued but Gabriel was just returning to his speech, like resurfacing from water.

"-and of course I rejected the advance- flattered, very much so! But-

"Alright. I've heard enough," Gabriel said. He could feel his bitten nails digging crescents into his palms.

"Thanks for bringing this to me. Do you know where he is now?"

Jack. Jack. Jack.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack didn’t have the luxury of forgetting what he’d done on a drunken whim. His mind may have been inebriated but his brain was still very much online and vigilant.

 

The divorce papers had been staring holes in him for a week and he needed a breather from being around such an overstimulating base, given all the things that were going on at once it was too much. It took a lot for Jack Morrison to take a break, given his never ending workload and constant requirement to be on top of things, even just being out of the heart of the chaos felt like he was abandoning his work.

 

But Reinhardt was right, he wasn’t coping or he _was_ in the only way he knew how. Not very becoming of his job title.

 

The Colorado base had been convenient as his apartment, his and Gabriel’s apartment, also happened to be there. It wasn’t really lived in, but it was a place they had called their own. He’d been planning on going there, he didn’t know why maybe it would change his perspective, maybe to collect his things and leave, maybe it would make it worse.

 

Maybe he wanted to make it worse.

 

It really had been an impulse decision. He would never try something like come on to a co-worker and long-time friend in such a way in a sober state. It would no doubt put a rift in their friendship and that was something he had so stupidly risked. The mention of Gabriel had set off a catalyst his brain had been sitting on and he’d just needed _something_ , a distraction to stop him from breaking right there and that apparent answer just so happened to be sitting right in front of him, not shutting up, he wanted him to _shut up_.

 

But now staying in the halls of the Watch point while the risk of running into Reinhardt was still very much likely was too much, he was paranoid, scared to walk around and just wanted to avoid running into _anyone_ for a while. It was difficult to move around let alone get any work done while he was avoiding people like the plague so the next day he grabbed his keys and  left, heading for the apartment.

 

His chest tightened the closer he got and on another impulse, or maybe the motions were just too drilled into him, he took a detour to the closest liquor store. Just in case.

 

The resolve to not drown his feelings away was thrown out as soon as he entered, choking at the emptiness he felt being here, just as empty as the apartment itself. Hardly furnished, a real lack of decoration.  Unable to even formulate a thought he stood in the doorway for a long time hesitant to step in, body as numb as he wanted to be.

 

…..

 

It was punishing coming here, had been for years, and so Gabriel only came out of necessity. And what Reinhardt had told him, tripping over his words in that stentorian German accent, necessitated the visit. He'd waited till early-evening, determined to maintain his own individual functionality; it was for him, not for Jack, the delay promised himself that. It couldn't be for Jack, not anymore.

 

They'd picked a nice location, with its stretch of clear sky (though Gabriel preferred rain) and its panorama of mountains (though Gabriel preferred the city) Colorado Spring's was picturesque. Little thought had gone into it; budget hadn't been an issue and both knew that most of their time would be spent elsewhere. But having a place for themselves felt nice. A space just for him and Jack, promising each other that one day, one day they'd get around to furnishing it, maybe spend a holiday or two there.

 

A quixotic reality. They never did. Gabriel worked, Blackwatch was ugly, taxing labour, but Jack worked and worked and _worked_ until it manifested like a disease, left his eyes blank, his hair thinning. Everything he did, everything he said was subject to debate, criticism; there was always somebody hurting because of it. It didn't seem to matter if that person was Jack. Or if that person were Gabriel.

 

They'd started to fight too, constantly. About anything, everything, issues that were Jack's fault, his fault, neither’s, boths, job-orientated, personal. It had been a pattern of arguments to reconciliations, doubt and trust.

 

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that a relationship that came as easily and naturally as breathing had begun to suffocate. Though, he had a rough idea, Gabriel thought bitterly.

 

There was too much damage done and they had gotten it in writing last week with the arrival of the annulment documents. And yet here Gabriel stood, key in the lock, twisted without hesitation. Jack had left the light on the hallway on as well as his haphazardly strewn combat boots and Gabriel dropped his own in a pair beside them.

 

As he made for the kitchen he could see the bottles on the table and Jesus fucking Christ if it didn't trap those cold fingers around his heart, the kind that turned his blood to ice-water. Familiar by now, but it had never gotten better with frequency.

 

From the doorway Gabriel watched him for a little while, his entrance quiet enough not to give himself away. The cracked pane of Jack's hunched shoulders, the polar of the ram-rod posture he wore in his Strike Commander trench coat.

 

"Well, sunshine. I think you've traumatised Reinhardt," was what he broke the quiet with. Jack jumped when he spoke. It was the wrong greeting, too semantically facetious but tight, quiet, angry, without a drop of levity.

 

 

"...Jack, what the hell do you think you're doing? What were you _thinking?_ "

 

They were, essentially, rhetorical questions. Gabriel knew he was trying to numb himself completely. Gabriel knew he hadn't been thinking at all.

 

…

 

Scoping out the apartment the bareness really fucking got to him, so unrepresentative of their relationship that had been so full and intense but in being so got destroyed so violently and painfully. He wanted to smash it up, to prove that there had been _something_ here but there was nothing to break, nothing that would be enough.

 

The fridge was almost completely bare, the only things left in it were outdated or covered in mould, so instead Jack drank. He managed to find a few old books and reports that had been left here to occupy him or just distract him from the emptiness.

 

The edges of his vision were blurring while he sat hunched over on the dusty leather couch. He hadn’t even heard the door click or the heavy footfalls until the voice of the last person he wanted to see right now cut through his stupor. Or maybe he was the person he wanted to see the most.

 

But that was too painful to think about.

 

It was so rare for both of them to be in the apartment at the same time, even when they planned it it never quite worked out, he couldn’t remember the last time their visits coincided. And of course the only time Jack wanted to be here alone was the time Gabriel came too.

 

God he knew it was a mistake coming here.

 

What was worse was the betrayal knowing that Reinhardt went straight and told on him to Gabriel, like he was a child who misbehaved or like that information meant something to Gabriel anymore. Instantly he wanted to take his anger out on something and didn’t know if he was madder at Reinhardt for telling him or Gabriel for thinking he had a say in what Jack did now.

 

 With only one of them in his immediate vicinity he supposed that was answered for him.

 

“What’s it to you? It’s none of your fucking business anymore.”

 

…

 

"It is when you get drunk as a skunk in the workplace, try to hook up with an agent and said agent makes it my business," Gabriel spat back, could tell just from Jack's back he were recoiling from the frankness of phrasing.

 

"You're _making_ this everyone’s business. You don't have the luxury to do that."

 

It was the bare-boned truth. He didn't, not as Strike Commander. And Jack would refuse to be anything but Strike Commander now, a job he loathed, the thing he'd sacrificed everything for, a pernicious, poisonous position. He should've had the stupid, fucking job.

 

If he were talking about the idea of another man’s hands on Jack then yeah, Jack was right. It wasn't Gabriel's business. He didn't have the luxury of lingering on it, speeding to their apartment with his jaw squared, his fingers clamped around the steering wheel, his expression thunderous. He had anyways.

 

"They're worried about you," he said flatly, excluded himself. It was implicit. At least Gabriel knew that.

 

…

 

“It was a quiet day, there was hardly anyone there. What did it matter?” He hated that he was coming up with excuses for himself, he knew that he didn’t need to, he didn’t answer to Gabriel but he did it anyway. So quick to defend himself as he did so often nowadays. “What’s a casual hook-up anyway, Reinhardt wouldn’t go blurting that out to other people or the press.”

 

“Or at least I thought he wouldn’t” he added bitterly, reminded of the reason he was here.

 

Just when he thought he had people he could trust it bit him in the ass once again. Call him paranoid but there really wasn’t anyone Jack could whole heartedly say he trusted anymore.

 

He finally turned and looked at Gabriel, his expression sour, unreadable. It felt like so long since he’d seen him and it made his stomach clench. Gabriel was the person he’d trusted the most, losing that may be why he couldn’t find it in others anymore. They only ever saw each other in the context of work now and then it was easier to shove his feelings out of it, throw himself into the work like putting a barrier up between them. One that had effectively torn them apart but could now become a place of safety.

 

Any interactions between them on personal matters were only on the divorce and each time Jack has had to find a way to trample his emotions to the ground to avoid risk of tearing apart.

 

 “And you? Why are you here if not just to lecture me?” he asked bluntly. “You’re not here out of ‘concern’ or that ‘worry’ bull crap so care to explain? You clearly knew I was here.”

 

…

 

Gabriel gritted his teeth and twitched his head to the side a little; not like he'd been slapped, but as if he were evading one.

 

"Yeah, alright Morrison. You got me," he said. "I'm here because I hate your guts and I get my kicks from seeing you fucked up. That good enough?"

 

The mordacity couldn't be clearer in his voice. Though maybe the first statement rang with a truth of sorts, even if he hated the idea of Jack alone and drinking and hurting more. A piece of paper couldn't annul that feeling.

 

Jack was drunk, Gabriel could tell by looking at him. He was _angry_.  Gabriel remained leaning against the wall, propped at a lofty angle despite the rising ire between them.

 

"We aren't in SEP anymore. The Reinhardt fiasco; that's your mess- and don't play dumb, you know it's a mess. I'm not here because I feel like it's my responsibility to clean it up." He paused, didn't shift his gaze from Jack. Who held the contact. The pigment of his eyes were still so very, very blue. That hadn't changed with time.

 

"Don't you dare act like this is a groundless lecture."

 

…

 

“Believable,” he muttered at the first comment. Maybe he was being a little unfair but he decided he didn’t give a shit. Everything he did always had to abide to a perfect moral compass, he had to be completely selfless, this time he would allow himself to be petty.

 

“What do you want me to say, huh? Say sorry to satisfy you or whoever else?”

 

Because that he had down to a t. Sometimes he resented the work he’d dedicated his life to, it didn’t allow him to feel the way he wanted or do things the way _he_ wanted it, it was always how he Should. Even his private life couldn’t be experienced the way that was natural to him so he had to bottle every little thing up, leave no ground uncovered. And then he was still ‘wrong’, just like how Reinhardt had treated him earlier. Just like Gabriel was doing now. 

 

For once he wanted to deal with things in his own way, even if it was self-sacrificing.

 

“Because, by god, do I know that there’s consequences to my actions. You don’t think I’ve learned that after how many years I’ve been at this job? Even the smallest most irrelevant shit I do is scrutinised, I haven’t been able to do /anything/ freely since I fucking started.”

 

He looked away in bitterness picking up the bottle. Another swig of whisky swallowed with a grimace. 

 

“And now I don’t need that same fucking scrutiny from you”

 

…

 

Gabriel gave a harsh bark of laughter, a parody of mirth, before saying, “We’re long past apologies, you and me."

 

"Here's what I want, seeing as you asked: for you to allow yourself to be human without acting like a lunatic. Quit feeling so fucking sorry for yourself. Get. Some kind. Of help."

 

Gabriel had never expected perfection from Jack but telling him that it weren't a generalised expectation placed on his person was a lie and both parties knew it.

 

Stressed, he passed his hand over his face, pushed the rim of his hat back and then pulled it in place. Heard the wet glug of alcohol depleting and felt the meagre contents (he'd felt too completely overwrought for lunch or dinner) of his stomach curdle.

 

"If not for yourself, for the organisation, Ana, whatever's still important to you. I know it ain't about what I want, trust me. I don't expect you to listen to a single world I say, you stubborn asshole."

 

"But I'm not-"

 

He made a low growl of frustration.

 

 

"- _scrutinising_ you, Jack. Not like you're convinced I am."

 

The nausea persisted at being clumped in with the crowd, officials, prominent figures and the general public, waiting for Jack to trip up so they could see him fall.

 

…

 

"Listen, I don't know what it is you think it is I need 'help' with but just step off alright," Jack said, annoyed. "I'm fucking fine."

 

'Whatever's still important to you' that cut through him like an axe. The only things he'd ever held dearly were simultaneously crumbling around him, through divorce and public bashings and media interference. At this point he was too scared to hold anything close due to the fear that it would slip right through his fingers. Things had been so good at doing that lately even as he grasped on for dear life.

 

Jack didn't want to admit that he was afraid.

 

To top it off looking at Gabriel, so close yet so far out of his grasp had him choking up, unable to subdue the well of tears no matter how hard he tried.

 

"Can you just leave? For once I just want to be alone. I'm sick to death of arguing Gabriel"

 

…

 

"Yeah? I'm not."

 

At least, he wasn't currently. He'd get there, slowly but surely to whatever semblance of the state he could attain. It was the only remaining option; they were long past salvaging.

 

The words were out of his mouth before he could muse their effects, the honesty unexpected but perhaps a heedless nod to their former bond, solicited by the tear-thick strangle edging its way into Jack's voice.

 

"I'm trying to learn how to quit you."

 

Gabriel glanced to the whiskey and watched Jack clutch the bottles neck like it were an artefact, or a firearm. Or a lifeline.

 

From the evidence before him Jack was currently incapable without owing it to a temporary, liquid solution; though that was nothing recent. Which he was raising again, an action Gabriel guessed may even have been unconscious.

 

"I'm blaming you for a lot of shit, Jack, but I'm not blaming you for how you feel right now. But, juro por Dios if you disagree, I can't leave you like this when- just _drop_ the fucking _bottle_.

 

The anger flared but Gabriel's voice tolled like a cracked bell, clearly stoked by something else.

 

…

 

"I can't figure out what it is you're trying to achieve here, we're already divorced you have nothing to gain from this."

 

Jack ignored Gabriel's comment over the bottle, it was the only thing he had grounding him. The only thing stopping him from spiralling as quickly as he would have done, or at least he thought.

 

He had meant it, he really _didn't_ want to argue, they'd already done so over and over until his throat was red raw.

 

It was only ever painful and Jack was tired.

 

Rising unsteadily to his feet Jack stumbled over to Gabriel, resolute. It was too much, he needed him gone and Jack was far too stubborn to leave himself.

 

"Whatever you're doing you're making this harder. So please get out"

 

When Gabriel didn't respond Jack's fist found the other man’s hoodie and he started pushing. A weak attempt at forcing him out.

 

…

 

"You just see everything in regards to gains and losses. It's not like that," he said, the same steady yet strained tone present.

 

It wasn't a shove, not yet. Gabriel didn't put his hands on the other man, felt like something would just _snap_ inside of him or Jack if he did, instead kept them stiff at his sides and stood fast.

 

"We're not together because we can't keep destroyin' each other over all of this. But- fuck, 'that worry bullcrap'- you don't think a day doesn't go by where I don't think about you, Jack?"

 

He was right. Gabriel shouldn't have come here and enabled the cycle’s continuance; he should've maintained the professional guise.

 

He'd kept himself separate from Jack for months, in physical and emotional distance, operated at different bases, let himself see the bottomless exhaustion on his features without comment or intervention. The way his chest caved in didn't right all the wrongs, take back words, amend every action.

 

"I'm _scared_ for you. You won't let anyone fucking in."

 

You stopped letting _me_ in.

 

But he wouldn't say it, couldn't keep talking in terms of Gabriel and Jack.

…

 

“We’re fucking divorced, things ended so fucking disastrously how am I not supposed to think that?”

  

Of course Jack was the same, he still cared undeniably about Gabriel despite it all, that sort of deep rooted concern doesn’t just go away but he’d always believed that it was one sided. That Jack just needed to move on and couldn’t imagine Gabriel still doing the same considering the words of hurt and anger thrown between them.

 

“But why don’t you continue to tell me how I’m reading things wrong again. How I’m always the one whose perspective is screwed like there’s no truth in anything I’m saying.”

 

 “And you’re right, we can’t keep destroying each other. So I’ll ask you again, why are you here? You knew turning up here would lead in this exact direction so practise what you’re preaching Reyes.” The last word was spat with such distaste Jack didn’t think he’d ever spoken his name so bitterly.

 

He wanted Gabe to leave, to curl in on himself and push the other away as a defence but at the same time he needed him to stay. Either way would hurt but it was impossible to tell which would hurt more.

 

It was in the same way that Gabriel was the sole person he’d invested so much irrefutable love and trust in that having that torn away was like losing a core part of himself.

…

 

"Well here's me telling you that you're wrong," he shot back, voice taut with contrived composure. Quiet, cold rage.

 

His name was spat from Jack's lips like it were a bad taste. Gabriel inwardly started at that, shocked at the sheer acrimony; hurt partially at the twisted resentment Jack harboured for him as well as the amount of _pain_ injected into that one word. Worse still, he could relate to it.

 

The nausea returned, thoughts beginning to race down completely irrational avenues - the kind of thinking that irritated him in others. He should've stopped this when it started. He should've held Jack together, he should've done things differently, he should've gotten the job. He shouldn't have come.

 

"I get that you don't think I have a right to be here, whatever. We've been arguing over who's in the right and who's in the wrong for years."

 

Main intention aside he hadn't come to exacerbate but rather confront Jack about the incident, stress its, alongside the alcohols, impropriety. He knew Jack knew. That hadn't stopped him.

 

Only now did Gabriel notice that his body was trembling, burgeoning with emotion, and he pushed Jack's hand off before stepping backwards.

 

"We ain't in love anymore and you don't care about yourself. We run two factions of a special-ops organisation, for fucks sake, and _you don't fucking care about yourself_."

 

Gabriel didn't think he had for a while, would just plug up his ears to any utterances and pretend nothing was wrong.

 

He wanted to elongate this; could barely keep 'you hide and you drink, like a coward' at bay. Old habits die hard.

 

Instead Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment. Opened them. "I'll call an estate agent next week, get this place on the market," he said, tried to sound icy but could only manage weariness.

 

…

 

Objectively he didn’t think either of them were in the right. What being right even meant, did it mean anything other than self-satisfaction and would that really feel better than being wrong?

 

“I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore”

 

The mention of the estate agent took him back. Despite the fact that he was here, the thought of selling the place hadn’t crossed his mine. He supposed it would’ve eventually and if they could agree on anything it was that it was the next logical step.

 

That didn’t make it any easier. He hadn’t particularly grown attached to the place, the evidence in how bare bones it was, basic necessities and nothing more, a place to stop at once in a long while but it had been _theirs_. The only thing solely theirs that wasn’t interfered with by work or other people. They’d had so many plans, ones that they never got round to like broken promises.

 

They would never get those back now. Completely out of reach.

 

Jack thought it would be easy to let go, well maybe not easy but something he was capable of. Yet he still had Gabriel’s dog tag hanging around his neck. The other hadn’t asked for it and Jack didn’t think he could stomach letting go of it.

 

He swallowed hard. Blinked the oncoming tears from his eyes before he could let them fall.

 

“Fine. In that case I’ll gather my shit and leave. No point in hanging around.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

 

That’s what he was planning to do anyway but as he began moving the nausea hit him and washed right through his core. It was all he could do but stumble to the kitchen sink in time before the acrid substance left his body.

 

…

Gabriel watched on and _ached_ with misery.

 

When the retching prolonged he bent down and picked up the dropped bottle of spirits. The whiskey had fallen on the sliver of carpet centimetres from the partition to Oakwood and Gabriel wished he'd dropped it a little to the left. On a wild whim he considered smashing it himself but all it'd do was piss off Jack. Besides, he certainly had replacement. It was never just one bottle anymore.

 

"You're not walking anywhere like this," he said over the sound of the other man spitting. Underneath it, there was a plea.

 

It was always so much worse when they'd finished yelling at each other.

 

He'd go on the balcony and he'd smoke and he'd let out the sob stoppering his larynx that threatened to expose him. It'd be the inadvertent revelation that the barely maintained icy exterior was a complete front.

 

"It's said and done, I get it. Give me a couple minutes,"

 

Unless you need me to stay; just nearby, in the far-side room. I know you need me to stay. He didn't say it but searched the slope of Jack's shoulders, _wanting_ to find a confirmation. Likelier to find one there than vocally.

 

He aborted the effort, pulled his hood up and slowly circuited the counter for the sliding door.

 

…

 

Briefly between retches he would glance over his shoulder, unaware of the nervousness written plainly on his face. Gabriel had only stepped outside, he realised, and at that there was a small pang of relief. Despite the fact that he’d begged him to leave but Jack also couldn’t bear the thought of being left here alone.

 

Staying here alone in the wreckage of their marriage where he could wallow in it.

 

Stomach now emptied, the splash of cold water on his face was somewhat sobering but it still left him shaking, trembling in his skin as he staggered around the apartment.

 

It was hard to take in in this state. It was likely the last time he would ever be here and he tried to let that absorb, not soak in every detail to memory but enough to appreciate what they’d had. Despite the wreck it was left in they didn’t have _nothing_.

 

The arguing had sapped all the energy out of him, almost dozing off standing up in various places. Eventually he settled on the edge of the bed, the sheets felt foreign to him now.

 

Rolling his shoulders and chewing his nails Jack stared down at it, mind numb and vision blurred.

 

He couldn’t sleep there.

 

….

 

The smoke seemed almost blue basking under the glow of a blinking streetlamp, the light just so to reveal form but obscure colour. It was the shade of melancholy that Gabriel felt.

 

His hands shook as his thumb struck the lighter, once, twice, reigniting its dwindling end. The several sobs he'd let loose coupled with the single tear felt like a pathetic, half-hearted commitment to his grief.

 

This shit got him so stupidly emotional - more fucked up than anything he'd encountered yet. And Gabriel had witnessed some atrocities.

 

He chain-smoked till the combination of nicotine and his empty stomach made him dizzy.

 

The smell of fresh tobacco clung to his clothes as he entered the house again and peered through the new gap in the door to their shared bedroom. Saw Jack.

 

"I'll sleep in it," he muttered, loud enough for Jack to hear him. The decision that he'd stay neither asked for nor specifically proposed. "And strip the sheets in the morning."

 

…

 

Gabriel's eyes were puffy but Jack couldn't tell if that was real or his brain was making it up. Probably just the dim lighting.

 

"So you're staying then. And where am I supposed to sleep?" He asked even though he'd already made up his mind that he couldn't stay in the bed.

 

The couch was still a viable option but they didn't have any spare blankets or the sort, they didn't entertain at all and had no need to keep any.

 

The battle in his mind was constantly so back and forth it was dizzying, he needed space but he couldn't be alone, couldn't be alone but couldn't be around Gabriel. Couldn't let Gabriel leave but couldn't bear him staying.

 

Thoughts racing he was bringing himself up to the brink of panic again and he thought it'd probably be easier if he just passed out on the floor. Maybe he needed air.

 

He tried brushing past Gabriel on his exit but misjudged, stumbled and walked square into the others chest. The stench of tobacco radiating from him was overwhelming but the warmth of his body made Jack falter. His eyes holding Gabriel's properly for the first time all night Jack could almost crumble under that gaze.

 

…

 

"What, the sofa too good for Jack Morrison? Want me to conjure another bed out of thin air?" he snapped back, irritable. "You can have the duvet," he added, considerably quieter. He'd swaddle himself in his hoodie.

 

It was a fixture for the night, just to ease Jack's pain, his own. Granted, coming here had just exhausted and further pained them but the alternative wasn't any less painful. But they weren't going to interact, it was just-

 

Jack bumped into his chest.

 

And he didn't draw back immediately. His eyes were so _blue_ but not the sort of cerulean they sometimes photo shopped him with, darker, muted. God, he looked so tired.

 

"Morrison," Gabriel said, but it sounded faint to his ears. Firm but with a tincture of incertitude, a trait nearly extinct in him and the first trace of it tonight. It took the punch out of the warning. He could scarcely move. He could scarcely breathe.

 

Everything was suddenly so sensory; how deceptively sweet whisky smelled despite how it revolted him, the taste of nicotine on his teeth.

 

Where his palms had come out to cushion Jack's fall they prevented any off chance the gap could be accidentally closed (so long as neither pursued it), resting just above his waist, the hovering-touch poised so it could be questioned as to whether it were there at all.

 

…

 

Jack didn't move. Felt rooted to the spot and it took all his willpower to not press forward against that broad body. To soak up his warmth for himself.

 

Because god he wanted to. They may not be 'in love' anymore but he still _loved_ Gabriel. The anger and bitterness only hurt so intensely because he _did_.

 

"About Reinhardt I- it wasn't-- I panicked. He was... he _kept_ talking about you and I needed him to _shut up_ "

 

'I miss you', he almost said but stopped himself. No he wasn't allowed that anymore. He wasn't allowed to miss him.

 

But the thought brought an onslaught of emotions he'd been holding down under the brink for dear life and once again his inebriated mind was unable to hold himself back from what it wanted.

 

What it needed.

 

It was a small movement but was a big enough mistake that it would likely have more repercussions than any of the shit he'd pulled yesterday.

 

He leaned in and kissed Gabriel, the taste so achingly familiar despite the overwhelming presence of whisky. It was small but wet, joined by the tears he'd not realised he'd been crying and he felt Gabriel flinch back from it.

 

…

 

"I don't care what it _meant_ -"

 

A substantial lie, but the truth was shallow and fanned by their past. It couldn't further blacken Jack's reception. It wouldn't help either of them.

 

"The reasoning doesn't matter- anymore, you can't just--"

 

And then Jack sighed quietly and slipped closer and there was no time to react.

 

A glut of colour and sound blew the fuse in his brain yet Gabriel remained a statue, the activity confined to his skull, face still angled sideways where he'd snapped back from Jack.

 

Gabriel balked.

 

He hated that the alcohol didn't just provide an escape but an excuse; Jack wasn't stupid, wasn't unaware of that. It was so _fucking_ selfish of him. So impossibly cruel that it cleaved rationality in two and left only a sea of seething sensations so entangled they were impossible to make sense of.

 

Where could they go from here? It thrust the choice upon Gabriel: rejection would ruin them, reciprocation would ruin them.

 

He could say that it were alright, that it didn't matter; spew a mechanical line on how continuing any relations whatsoever outside of the organisation was deleterious to it. A leaf out of Strike Commander Morrison's book, when he were engrossed in the role. It wasn't alright. It couldn't be any less alright.

 

He _HATED_ him for this.

 

Gabriel could hear him crying softly, felt a tear patter onto his clavicle, the staccato of his breaking breathing against the cord in Gabriel's turned neck where he was still so close.

 

"What are you doing?" he croaked, remained twisted away but stock-still. He could hear his own breath rattle in his ears, begin to heave in his chest. The warring desires clawed at his chest. To run, hold him, hit him, fuck him. He wished he could believe that he were capable of making the right choice.

 

…

 

“… Shit. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t of--“

 

Gabriel had said it before, Jack didn’t care about himself, the repercussions he was going to face would be disastrous for him but in his current mind-set he didn’t care how detrimental it would be to his own mental state.

 

It wasn’t really until now that he realised he was forcing his own pain onto Gabriel. Neither could move on with Jack dragging him right back in.

 

This was why he’d pleaded to be left alone, he could take suffering himself but only himself. Isolating, pushing people away, it was easier that way. There was no need for other people to become involved and no need for others to hurt with him. Jack wouldn’t allow himself to be a burden on others and in order to do that he had to keep them away.

 

But a selfish part had still latched on, not wanted Gabriel to leave. Maybe he really was as self-absorbed as people said he was.

 

Maybe it was time for him do the right thing for once, he’d leave, not give Gabriel the chance to reject him or make a choice that could sour things between them even further, a choice Jack had forced him into.

 

“I-I’m sorry” was all he managed to choke out as he pulled away, pushing past Gabriel as he made to exit the room.

 

…

With reflexes befitting of the super soldier he was his arm whipped out and caught Jack by the wrist. The struggle was immediate, wild even, the other man’s urge to flee so obviously desperate, his strength so great.

 

The strangled sound that came out of Gabriel was unrecognisable as his voice.

 

"Is that what it'll take?" Gabriel said and yanked Jack to him, used the momentum to haul himself forward. In the many months the divorce had been underway they'd scarcely shared a word, never mind a touch.

 

If he'd known the involvement was going to hurt this much he'd never have kissed Jack in S.E.P, would never have spent all those nights learning and loving him. Yet another lie.

 

It seemed lifetimes ago.

 

"I don't have it in me, Jack."

 

The admittance seemed so loud in the quiet room.

 

"I can play the politician and the Blackwatch commander but I can't do this middle-ground shit with our personal lives anymore. You were right, shouldn't have come. Should've ferried the information over to Ana. I won't make the mistake again."

 

Jack's forehead was cool but a little sticky with sweat when he pressed his against it. Up close his breath was stale; acerbic from vomit and malt-sweet. Gabriel didn't care. He nudged his nose against Jack's. It was wet with tears.

 

"Maybe you're sick of doin' the right thing and I was just never very good at it in the first place. So stick to your guns, you fucking coward."

 

…

 

“Ana? For what fucking reason?!” Jack recoiled in anger and betrayal. It wasn’t even a big thing, it didn’t have to be made a _big thing_ but everyone around him seemed to want to make it into one. By telling on him like he was some sort of disobedient child

 

His growl of frustration was cut short by Gabriel unexpectedly resuming the close contact.

 

Staring accusingly at the grip on his wrist before glazing over the face mere centimetres from his own he muttered, “I was trying to remove myself from this, _for you_. For _your_ sake.”

 

Jack’s breathing was laboured, gritting his teeth as he tried to think rationally. He could shake the grasp, he could leave right now but the smallest hesitation in him wanted to see how this would pan out.

 

“So what is this? I’m not allowed to have casual flings with other people but it’s ok if it’s with you? What were you fucking jealous?” he spat, angry enough that he could barely even see clearly. He may have started it but he tried to recover and do the right thing. Now Gabriel was testing his will.

 

Well fuck him very much too. Closing the gap between them wasn’t hard but Jack felt inordinately guilty for succumbing to this once again. His kiss was rough, sloppy, he took and he bruised. Jack wouldn’t allow this to be sweet he wanted it to hurt. Hurt him more than anything.

 

“Don’t you dare fucking blame this on me. This is both of us.”

 

….

 

A stream of rapid, Spanish cussing, exsasperated remarks.

 

"I won't, but if I get someone in my office with a tale like that again I'll treat it as admin; file it off to Vice Command. Nice and clinical, just how you like it."

 

His vision was throbbing with fury. At himself, at Jack. For how much better and worse this felt than the remoteness. 'You be honest with me and I'll be honest with you, yeah?' It was as close to comfort as he could allow himself, as Jack could bring himself to accept. The familiarity of the act, even if it were hate-fuelled, hurting; that there was always this. There couldn't be.

 

There _couldn't_ be. It was a realisation he'd made seconds beforehand that he were, or at least presently, incapable of keeping Jack at arm’s length. All they could do was enable each other’s attempts at self-sabotage.

 

Even if Gabriel's goal was to set his hoard of mechanisms and thoughts aside to disable that. One hour, it was going to be. One night at most.

 

"What part of this-"

 

Jack's teeth clacked against his and Gabriel kissed him back immediately, hard and hot and open, bit down on his tongue to order its retreat.

 

"-is 'okay?'"

 

This line of work didn't suit a morally upstanding person and Gabriel had never tried convincing himself otherwise. But this was a conscious selection that both had the power to resist; they could just shove each other away, stow themselves away in separate rooms.

 

"Yeah, we're both doing really good by each other right now."

 

Could it be that simple? It didn't feel like it. Were he _that_ weak of a man?

 

He grabbed Jack by the back of his thigh to slot theirs together, just below his ass, fingers digging hard into the built muscle there.

 

"But whichever rebound you let cum all over your pretty-boy face doesn't mean a _damn_ thi-"

 

…

 

“I don’t KNOW Gabriel, you tell me.” He spat out between harsh kisses, if you could even call it that as opposed to the crashing of their mouths, no discernible rhythm just need. “Why _are_ we doing this to each other?”

 

The others spiteful words sent pangs of hurt to his core but underlying, undeniable arousal. The mixed feelings in his gut merely twisted and threatened to make him nauseous again and he needed it to _stop_.

 

“Shut up.” He growled. “You don’t get to talk about me like that anymore”

 

Using the force of Gabriel’s hand he pressed them more firmly together, grinding and rutting their crotches with no hint of hesitation. His cock was already straining against his clothes as he was pushed forcefully into the wall. Wind knocked out of him but it did little to deter him.

 

Good, doing this on the bed would feel wrong, too caring and soft for what it was.

 

It wouldn’t do either of them any good to pretend.

 

He also didn’t want to prolong this, they could take what they needed and then he could forget. He’d try to forget and try to move on. Even as he thought it he knew it was near unachievable.

 

“Go on then, fuck me and show me how angry I make you”

 

…

 

"Or what? You've got nothing."

 

All the braggadocio couldn't hide how Gabriel's fingers continued to tremble as they tripped over the button pinning the top of Jack's fliers. Mounting frustration and fervour lended themselves in the decision to just tear through them with a snarl and tug the zip down.

 

"Now _that's_ a transparent goad."

 

A hand plunged down the front of Jack's underwear and give his erection a strong squeeze; no preceding touching needed to get him hard. Gabriel felt him immediately rock up into the dry friction.

 

When Gabriel looked up the other mans mouth was ajar and impatiently waiting for his return. There were kissing forcefully enough to bruise, biting hard enough to draw blood and he tasted copper when he drew back, felt blood sitting in the indented scar on his lip, the skin beside it ripped, his breathing ragged.

 

Gabriel withdrew his head to stick two fingers in his own mouth, dragging his tongue against and sucking around his fingers whilst regarding Jack with a hooded glare. There might've been lube in the building but he couldn't wait long enough to locate it and that implied premeditation. There could be no prudence in this.

 

He left a warm trail of saliva down the small of Jack's back as he worked under his waistline and pressed against his hole. The initial pistons to adjust him were too few before he forced himself in to the knuckle.

 

This too was to be the bare minimum.

 

As he played roughly with Jack's ass he tried (and failed) to keep any pressing thoughts of other men doing this to him at bay. It was inevitable. It would happen.

 

He hated himself for the lingering preoccupation. Jack didn't need to know the reason behind the growl that escaped from Gabriel's gritted teeth when he next went to kiss him, his hand ensnared in Jack's shirt.

 

God, this was so fucked. They were so fucked.

 

…

 

“I know, I don’t need you to tell me that”

 

A low, pained groan escaped Jack as he was stretched out roughly. The pain was grounding, it gave him something to subsidise for what was raging internally, he needed more of it, craved it. He wanted Gabriel to _hurt_ him.

 

Jeans at his knees Jack shucked them off hastily, eager for Gabriel to be inside him while he wrapped his legs firmly around the others waist. His fingers grip was bruising around Gabriel’s shoulders just as Gabriel’s were on his thighs.

 

The fingers had not been nearly enough and guttural gasps of pain escaped unwillingly as Gabriel entered him. To counter it Jack bit down harshly on the shoulder he had been gripping, tasting blood and, not caring enough to lick it up, he spat what had gathered in his mouth on the floor behind them.

 

It took a while for Jack to loosen up and stop clamping down against the intrusion. Eventually he adjusted to the brutal pace of Gabriel’s thrusts and the pain only made his dick leak more pre-cum.

 

“F-fuck”

 

They fucked hard like this before but rarely with such deep rooted emotion and raw anger, it made a change to not have Gabriel still concerning himself with Jack’s comfort and Jack’s pleasure and the thought of receiving that now made his stomach clench and head pang. This was good, better, it helped dampen the sickening guilt he felt for still craving this.

 

“Go. Harder. You can fuck me harder than that.”

 

…

It wasn't a denotation of permission - long past the point of niceties - but came out Jack's mouth like an accusation. That Gabriel were still holding something back.

 

Jack certainly wasn't; the teeth marks on Gabriel's shoulder ached and his back arched first away from and then into the nails scoring his spine beneath his hoodie. The pain was good, frantic, made his cock throb inside Jack and his efforts redouble.

 

"I use you and you use me, yeah?-- I- ah, _FUCK_ , no pares-" he breathed as Jack screwed down, the words jolted from him by how fucking good it felt, how rougher they could go.

 

So he crammed Jack up against the wall to deepen the angle and _fucked_ into him, unforgiving, until the other man was going to pieces in his arms and Gabriel with him, so hard he couldn't think.

 

He loathed Jack for kissing him but not much as Gabriel loathed himself for caving to the countless yearnings to touch Jack and be touched by him, inflict this biting pain unto Jack and himself because it was better than being hollow from it. He'd wring a reaction because otherwise it just ate away and once everything had come to a hateful summit still there was no closure. It was a failing, the kind that sat leaden in his stomach whenever he returned from a strike with half a squad, but one that he never learned from. How weak-willed could he be? That wasn't him. That had _never_ been him.

 

Was this how they could take care of each other now? That their pain could be quantified and compared in empty bottles and sleepless nights seemed superficial.

 

Even Ana had no epiphanic advice and had just hushed him whilst he'd sobbed down the phone because it were unable to stay contained anymore and it couldn't go anywhere else. Not to Jack.

 

Those feelings always had a shadow cast over them faced with their source. Anger.

…

 

“Fuck, f-fuck, fuck…” the curse came out like a mantra but Jack didn’t once moan Gabriel’s name.

 

So many parts of him hurt but none of them were enough to surpass the guilt, the shit continuing to stir in him even as he was fucked deep. That this was wrong, unspeakable and he would never have _this_ again. It was a bitter hoax of what he had had, clung to so desperately he left claw marks as he lost it forever.

 

He shouldn’t, _shouldn’t_ have done this.

 

The following orgasm was raw and intense but left him hollower than Jack thought he’d ever been. He let Gabriel cum in him more out of habit and instantly regretted it, the thought of being forced to remember as he cleaned it out later made him want to reach once again for the whisky. From there his movements were mechanical, his own cum wiped on the cusp of his shirt as he located his underwear and jeans before clumsily shoving them back on.

 

He couldn’t make himself so emotionally vulnerable to anyone ever again and he couldn’t prolong _this_ either. For now he had to detach himself, protect himself. He needed to get out before either could make this impossible situation worse or hurt each other any further.

 

Jack’s heart clenched but his exterior turned cold, distant. He turned away from Gabriel, fingers idling over the dog tags resting against his chest. Now would be his last chance but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

 

“You can deal with the estate agent, don’t bother me with it unless absolutely necessary,” He said harshly, stopping at the doorway. “You should have the free time now anyway.

 

….

 

Every part of his body Jack had grabbed and bit rung with sensation. They'd been dealt with a super soldiers strength and an ex-lovers anger and Gabriel knew he'd still wear a couple the next day even if they'd only be visible to those that knew where to look and to look hard.

 

And Jack wouldn't.

 

If Gabriel were audience to himself he'd rebuff anything mournful on his face but that couldn't stop the tiny crease that formed between his eyebrows. The downwards curve to his lips was corrected after a long stare at Jack. The glint in his eye hardened.

 

"Mmmm," Gabriel hummed in a vacant agreement, ran a hand over his beard, laughed and nodded to himself like he'd reached a sardonic personal conclusion.

 

"You got it."

 

Even the jeer felt lacklustre; nothing but profoundly unhappy. He stood with his jaw jutted, every line in his body taut and tense, waiting expectant for the other man to make his leave so that Gabriel could make his.

 

So he could figure out what the hell just happened, how he assisted in orchestrating it, how it had all gone so terribly, terribly wrong.

 

…

 

“Fine.” And with that Jack exited the room.

 

He wouldn’t let himself stutter. He wouldn’t let himself falter. No more tears would be shed and no more thoughts spared for the man he’d spent so much of himself loving and caring for.

 

There wasn’t much else keeping him here now, maybe a few possessions he could grab but the spare clothes in the wardrobe weren’t worth stepping back in that room. The files were old, books boring and insignificant, if there was anything else he couldn’t remember what they were and clearly weren’t important enough to salvage.

 

Time had sobered him up somewhat but he still wouldn’t be capable of driving in this state so he called a cab, he’d stay in his office for the night. Or the dorms if they were empty.

 

More forcefully than intended his key was slammed onto the counter top, loudly enough for Gabriel to hear from the other room. The half empty bottle collected along with his jacket he was out the door.

 

City lights passed by in a blur, their light usually comforting and gave him a sense of mesmerisation and freedom could only be viewed with disinterest. The desolation threatening to let his thoughts penetrate his mask of stoicism.  On second thought he couldn’t stay in this city another minute.

 

He couldn’t sit around idle, he’d throw himself into work and not _let_ himself pause enough to think.

 

He texted Ana, ‘Catching a flight back, we’ll tackle the media head on first thing in the morning. If Blackwatch operations have to be suspended due to this so be it.”


End file.
